A Life Wasted
by Ghost520
Summary: Follow Gregory Jones' life as he learns what it is to waste a mind and a life. Reader discretion is advised. Contains violence, and harsh language. You've been warned. Chapter 8 is up.
1. The Plan

Disclaimer: I do not own Grand Theft Auto. This story uses little to no GTA characters, anyway.

**The Plan**

_I was a normal boy once, I was like any other kid my age. Until I met Michael and Paul. Those two were destined to fall into the wrong path. They were bad ever since grade school. It used to scare the shit out of me when we were young...they committed crimes, sure, but it was all small time. They had the idea of making a gang. It wasn't my fault at all. They converted me to a life of crime._

I suddenly woke up in a cold sweat, the clock blinking on and off. The power must have gone off sometime during the night, it had been storming pretty badly. I sat up, looking out my window. Yep, a fucking tree right on the power line. I looked down at my shirtless torso, a big 'SJ' being on my abdomen. I frowned a bit. I was a Southside Jester.

Yeah, I know what your thinking. "Damn, that's a stupid name for a gang!" Well, just be glad it isn't some shit like 'Purple Pimps', because this author isn't creative enough to save his own life.

It wasn't the best decision I had ever made, but the actions have been taken and made, and the past can not be changed, as far as I know.

I slowly rose from my bed, it squeaking as I shifted around to get up, and went over to the closet, withdrawing a pair of pant shorts, shorts so long, they may as well be pants. They were black with the initials of my gang, 'SJ', on the back pocket. Custom made. Then I grabbed a nearby tank top from on the back of a wooden chair sitting lonely in a corner, putting it on. I slipped a basketball jersey, that had our colors of black and blue on it, over the tank top.

I slipped my sneakers on and went outside to get some fresh air. The smell of tobacco was heavy in my two room apartment. It was damn near flooded outside. I felt dreary already, just looking at the mess. I spat into the miniature lake that had formed about 10 feet below the balcony I was standing on.

I took out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and tapped both ends of it on the palm of my hand. I didn't know what I accomplished by doing this, but it was a developed habit.

I put a cigarette between my lips, lighting it with my silver Zippo, slipping it back into by pocket once I was done with it. The air outside wasn't really any better then the air _inside._ I just liked being outside for some strange reason. I'd always been outside as a kid and a teenager. Now that I'm twenty eight years old, not much has seemed to change. Twenty eight fucking years old, and still acting like some teenager.

Gangs are foolish and some consider them to be for pussies and those who can't defend themselves, I know, but it felt as if it was the only family I ever knew. I wasn't the leader, or an important member, Michael and Paul both decided against it early on. I was just your regular run-of-the-mill soldier.

I sighed and though for a moment, staring out at the city before me.

_Liberty City_. The biggest shit hole in the country. This damn place is ridden with crime, from the Mafia, to corrupt cops, to the average crack head waiting for his next quick fix. That's all anyone ever wants. A quick fix. It's disgusting how everyone seems to be just wanting to make a quick buck, have a quick fuck, and get on their way.

It's been ten years since the gang was formed. We had a population of over one hundred men, plus a few different chapters farther than Liberty City. One in Vice City, it was doing pretty well for it's self. Another in San Andreas, it had control of an entire block. We were your typical gang. That's it, plain and simple. We were just a group of scum waiting for his ticket to Hell, to rot for the rest of eternity. I couldn't help it, though. I'm not a God, nor a very religious man. I just want to get my days over and done with in the fastest manner possible.

I proceeded down my stairs and onto the ground. I dug in my pocket and pulled out a used condom. How long had it been there? I tossed it over my shoulder and reached back in my pocket, pulling out my keys. I got in my Sultan, gleaming blue in the early morning sun. I pulled out of the parking lot a minute later, after I tuned my radio to a good station. It was time to start my day.

I was down the road and about to turn into the drive through of a nearby McDonald's when a gun shot rang out. I was used to this sort of thing, so I didn't pay any mind to it. But what I _didn't_ know was that it was pointed at _my_ car, the bullet piercing the side of my car and narrowly missed my leg. As grateful for that as I was, I got out of my vehicle to confront the shooter.

It was a homeless person, of course. Liberty City had a pretty bad homeless problem. It had just about every kind of homeless person imaginable. Ranging from that 'I lost my wife and kids, so I turned to drugs' to the 'I ate too much to pay my bills'. Then, there was the popular 'GUT DA FAWK OUT MEH HAWSE!!!' guy who would yell at you every time you get near his little box.

I swore to myself and got back in my car, not wanting to cause a bigger scene then there already was. It was clear the man was mental, so leaving him to what he was doing and going on about my business seemed to be the best idea at that moment. I got my food a few minutes later and went in the direction of the gang's hideout. Of course, minding all cliches, it was an abandoned warehouse.

I know, I know, you're saying to yourself, "This is getting to be like a cheap version of 'The Godfather'.." But, your wrong! Haha! We aren't like the Godfather, because _we_ have MODERN cars, not jalopies that take up two and a half parking spaces.

I turned down a dark alley, got out, and put a tarp over my car...just in case. My 'brothers' don't take too kindly to people who've been followed..the last guy had a surprise vasectomy. It looked painful as shit, especially since they used a rusty old knife to do the cutting.

I entered the warehouse, only after eating my burger. If I would've entered with it, I would've had twenty guys asking me to "Go buy me a fuckin' burger, ya asshole!" And I just didn't have the money at the moment to splurge anytime soon.

They were discussing a plan to rob a bank in the city, so I just took a seat in the far back and started to listen in.

"This is gonna be so fucking fun!", one member exclaimed.

"Someone is gonna stroll by and hear ya screaming at fucking a hundred decibels! Shut the Hell up.", Paul whispered hoarsely.

"Okay, the plan is, me and Greg back there, are going to stroll in the front of the bank. We're going to get in line just like everyone else, then I want about four of your to come in guns blazing a few minutes after we get in. Try to wait until we get to the front of the line before you do. We'll get the money, Greg, you'll be after the safe by the way. The cops will probably show up so I want you all to be on your toes. You see one of them coming for us, aiming, you shoot at them. I don't care if you do or don't hit them, just make sure he is distracted. Make sure to wear your vests for this one, it could turn ugly real fast. I don't need more deaths and more blood on my hands."

Paul coughed slightly as he finished, being out of breath. He took out a pack of Black and Milds, taking one out and putting it in his mouth. He didn't buy them to smoke them, strangely, rather he bought them because he liked the flavor. He was against smoking, and was the only member of the gang that was against smoking.

We would all poke fun at him, laughing together, until he of course brought the fact up that we all would probably die before he did. At times like that, he was the only person laughing. Of course, there is the possibility of being shot down, but whatever.

He dismissed us, all of the other soldiers leaving at the same time. I walked over to the table and took a seat.

"So, what you been up to, Paul?", I asked him.

He turned to face me.

"I've been doing the same things I always have. By the way, you'll need a better gun then that shitty little pistol you've always carried around with you."

I shifted in my seat, listening to what Paul had to say.

"Not only will you be helping rob the place, you're going to be the driver. Get a good night's sleep before hand, don't need a sleepy driver.

We left a few minutes after everyone else did, taking Paul's car.

"This thing is pretty speedy, so be sure you don't press the gas too hard, don't want you to crash and kill us both today or when we initiate the plan."

I shot him an annoyed look, which made him chuckle. We sped down the road and pulled into the parking lot of the apartments I stayed in.

"Alright kid, cya tomorrow. Don't forget, get some sleep.", Paul said as he pulled off and down the road.

I sighed, taking steps two at a time up to my apartment. I was bored already and it was still morning. Time to watch some television and call for a pizza, I suppose.

* * *

This is the child of both chapters 1and 2 being fused together during revision, some changes in place.


	2. When Plans Go Bad

**When Plans Go Bad**

We were at the entrance to the bank, going over the plan once more. One of the members informed of the plan had sold us out they day before, however. There were already police officers in the alley to the side and in back of the bank. We didn't realize it until Paul and I had already gone into the bank, proceeding as planned. That's when it happened.

Three cops came in through the back, five or so running around to the front, confronting the men out front. They pointed their guns at us, yelling out for us to put our hands up. Paul looked over to me.

"Kid, get out of here. Run for the front door, I'll distract 'em.", Paul whispered to me.

"Hey, what the Hell are you saying to him?!", a cop yelled at Paul.

"I didn't say anything, dipshit!", Paul suddenly ran towards them. I took my cue and bolted for the door, greeted by the dead bodies of cops and a couple of our soldiers.

I suddenly heard a shot ring out and thought of going back, but I kept running, as did everyone all dashed for our cars, I hopped into the driver's seat. A second later, and we were gone.

Something we didn't know, a member of the Saint-Cross mafia family had snuk into one of our cars, and quickly assassinated two of our soldiers, taking the car. How he did this, we had no clue whatsoever. I arrived at the warehouse a few moments later, not knowing where everyone was. I didn't know whether Paul would be joining us or not.

At some moment, I was shot. I was now looking down to my bleeding shoulder and instantly blacked out.

I woke up at least an hour later, on an operating table. I was surrounded by my 'brothers'. One pointed and exclaimed that I was alive, my vision still blurry and my ears ringing. I looked around sleepily at the hospital room and then down to the ugly baby blue hospital gown I was dawning.

One soldier leaned down and whispered in my ear.

"They got him. They got Paul. He was shot and hauled in by the cops. They say he's currently in a prison hospital. Michael is away on business and has named _you_ acting leader in his absence."

I was astonished by what I had just heard, I thought the ringing had distorted my hearing and asked him again what he had said. I was appointed _leader_. I couldn't help but smirk.

I then remembered what else he had said and clenched my fist in anger. They got Paul, no doubt sticking him with every crime we had recently committed that they could.

I took into account the crimes and came up with about three charges of battery, five charges of petty theft, a charge of grand theft auto, and a charge of attempted murder. I knew he would be gone for a long time. Michael couldn't have chosen a worse time to take a business trip. I was glad that I was finally given some form of authority, sure. But the truth of it was, I had no experience in leadership nor any leadership skills.

_The gang will be in ruins by the end of the month.._ I thought to myself.

I wished Michael were here now, staring down over me. But he wasn't. So later that week, I checked out of the hospital and was picked up by a car full of my soldiers. We arrived at the warehouse to discuss business within a few moments.

"So, _boss_, what should we do now?", a soldier sarcasticly commented.

I blankly looked at him and thought of just picking up an object and launching it at his head, but what kind of leader would do that? I decided we were going to try and take more turf for ourselves, more for me to get a feel for things then to actually do anything. We had a pretty good chunk of turf taken over, so it didn't matter if we failed or not, unless someone was killed.

"Alright, I have a plan. We're going to try and gain more turf...the Saint-Cross moved in on us, so let's return the favor. We'll hit street with their two store fronts, Larry's Fish and that old diner they have. I need four of you to go into the shops like nothing is wrong, purchase a thing or two then meet up with another group down the street, and get all the guns you can. Then after you have been equipped with guns, go back into the store like you forgot something and take every last Saint-Cross you see. Don't kill the innocent."

Later that day, they proceeded as planned. Everything went smoothly, up until they were up to the second building, just getting done shooting. The police arrived and took two of them out, the other 6 escaping narrowly.

When they arrived, I congratulated them for their work and dismissed them for the rest of the afternoon. I had a little chat with one of them who shot the clerks, both innocent, though. Let's just say he won't be able to make a pinky promise for a while.

The next day, I called a meeting to discuss what I had recently developed in my mind.

"Okay, today we're here to discuss what I have recently developed in my mind..."

See? Told you.

"I want us to hit a Saint-Cross compound. They won't know what hit 'em. I'll need about four of you with me. Remember to wear vests and bring some pretty powerful guns..."

We went on discussing for about two hours, deciding to do it the next day.

* * *

Chapter 3 revision. Thanks once again to Nicholas.


	3. Pest Control

**Pest Control**

Me and eight of my highest ranked soldiers were in a 'Waldo's Fish Market', one of our fronts, van riding to a secondary Saint-Cross mafia compound. We had our vests and guns ready to go in shooting.

I was fed up with the recent happenings with the Saint-Cross. They killed our a couple soldiers in the bank job, took off with some cash, and I'm not entirely sure they weren't to blame for the cops knowing about our plans.

It was time to give the rats a nice dose of poison. I had a car full of men about to blow one of their fronts right the Hell out of it's resting place, across town.

We arrived at the compound a bit after eight o'clock in the morning, the sun had just gotten into the sky. Two men in our little group climbed the nearby trees, poising themselves with sniper rifles. Two men ran past the trees, taking cover in the nearby bushes. I had planned this to be as strategic as possible.

The four that were left waited for me, following closely behind me as I walked into the compound. We were greeted by a squad of five men, all with assault rifles. I chuckled at the men, marching out like little puppets on the end of a puppeteer's strings. They were just doing the dance being commanded to them by their master until their untimely demise. I whistled just loud enough for my men to hear me, and they sprang out from behind the bushes and quickly made mince meat out of the men.

They were nothing more than meat shields. There were three more men coming up, but the snipers picked them off before they even got off the steps. A loud explosion suddenly took place and I knew that it was my men blowing their front to smithereens, although I was surprised to hear it from the distance we put between ourselves.

A small army of men then exploded from the compound doors and came out firing. The men in the bushes took out five of the oncoming army before even _one_ of them was picked off. The snipers took out another two, I got a headshot on one. They were using M-16s and we were using AK-47s and Uzis. We unleashed a hailstorm of cascading bullets into their bodies, killing five more. Now there were only three remaining. A few minutes later, and they were dead. I rushed forward with three men while the others guarded the front gate in case a rescue platoon should feel the need to jump in and save the day.

We burst into the main room, taking the door off the hinges, to find two men and a withered old man. We shot both men and took the older gentlman at gun point.

"What do ya want? I'm a elder for God's sakes! Haven't you ever heard the phrase,'Always respect your elders'? What is it you want from me? Money, guns, w-whores maybe?", the old man stammered as sweat rolled down his face and onto his expensive looking suit.

I laughed in his face and rifle butted him in the head.

"I want your family to become extinct, is what I want."

"You can't take us all, we have too many chapters! We have many extensions into San Andreas, and Vice City, too!", he talked as if he had the world in his back pocket. He didn't realize that he had just given me some very useful information, though.

I laughed again and hit him with the barrel, blood now appeared from his forehead and ran down into his mouth. He started to spit the blood out, receiving a rifle butt, opening a gash in the area under his right temple.

"I'll let you live, on one condition.", I was speaking with a certain swagger and confidence that wasn't known to me. It was the voice of a leader.

"OK, OK, what is it?", he asked nervously, spitting blood out as he talked.

"I want you to send a little message to that thick skulled boss of yours. Tell him, he better step off or he'll see the inside of a coffin a lot sooner then God intended."

The old man winced in pain at this, for the mafia family was deeply religious. Or maybe it was just because he was busted open.

"Will you do this for me, or shall I have a priest arrange your funeral? I hear they have a pretty good discount until the end of the month."

He blinked furiously, blood had ran into his eye and now his vision was blurry.

"OK, whatever you want, just don't kill me!", he pleaded. His face was drenched in blood, now.

I took a rag from my back pocket and tossed it at him.

"Wipe yourself off, your bleeding.", I taunted him,"Get him in the car.."

Ten minutes later, we were riding down the street with the man in the back of the Sedan, the main complex in sight. We sped up and shoved him out the door just in time for him to fall into the laps of two gun wielding guards.

They wouldn't like what I had just done too much, and I knew it. I laughed to myself in the back of the Sedan. I was getting a taste of power, and I liked it.

* * *

We were on the way back to the hideout, when a truck rammed us head on. We flipped about three times and landed on our wheels. I got out of the car and noted the damage. The whole car was busted up, bumper to bumper. Two men got out of the car and came over to me. They were still clutching their guns.

The truck's back had flown open, revealing boxes of guns. I knew this because a box had fallen out and revealed to be holding pistols. One of my men handed me a 9mm, then he took one for himself. The driver must be late or something, because he hadn't even stopped. I caught a glimpse of him however, and it appeared to be a Yugoslavian man with a full beard, wearing what appeared to be a yellow and white vest that could be zipped up to the mouth but was only zipped up to the neck, being covered by a brown long sleeved jacket.

Then, one of my men fell to the ground dead. The other followed shortly after. My legs were hurting like a bitch after the crash, but I had survived, a small trickle of blood entering my mouth. I was bleeding from my head, somewhere. I hailed a cab, after carefully concealing my weapons.

I arrived outside the hideout shortly afterward, shooting the driver in the back of the head as he turned into the alley, making sure he didn't remember the location. I went inside to the bathroom to look in the mirror, I was bleeding from the area under my left temple, and it had curved somehow. Might have been the wind.

I had gotten cut from the car crash, no doubt, so I just dismissed it and placed a band-aid over the wound, going back into the main room. There were twenty men sitting around the room.

I sat in my chair and stared blankly at the table before me. My men were eager to hear what the next order was.

"They have took two men. They will surely arrive shortly to kill us off, so be ready. They will strike with force and hatred, but we can turn this against them.", I pronunciated slowly.

The urban soldiers then got up to get their vests and weapons, a car horn sounded outside and in burst a bus load of men. My men rushed to war with them, shooting most of them, others getting sawed in half by samurai swords or katanas.

By the end of it all, all Saint-Cross members were dead. Ten of my men were dead, five wounded and five were now guarding the doorway. I was surprised by their haste in getting to us. I thought they would at least plan ahead of time.

The Saint-Cross had lost a few of their soldiers, they did have something up their sleeves though. One of my men mentioned a group called the 'Redeemed'.

"The Redeemed? That group works for the Saint-Cross family, and almost no one knows of them, since they don't tend to leave survivors to tell the tale. How many people are present in that group is unknown, but what is known is that there aren't a lot of them. And we should be thankful to God there isn't alot of them.", he began.

"Each of them is either an ex-hitman, a reformed murderer, or something of the sort, hence the name ''The Redeemed''. Now, you're probably asking yourself why they're so feared. And that is quite easy to explain. They all seem to be out of a damn fairytale or something!", he paused to draw in a deep breath.

"From what the few survivors say, they are not humans. It goes from one of them being able to get shot by hundreds of bullets without dying, one being able to lift up a car and throw it a long distance, and the list just keeps going. One of them is said to make people insane by just looking at him. And they are all completely loyal to the Saint-Cross family, and to God of course.", he drew in another long breath and continued,"If you want my advice, simply do not get in their way, because no matter how far away you are, no matter how well hidden you are, no matter how much plastic surgery you get to look like someone else, they'll get you, and don't expect any mercy from them once they do."

I blinked in disbelief of how much information he had been holding back. I had him executed in the back, with a combat knife. I then stared around the room and thought to myself. I had a pounding headache, my legs were hurting less, but still hurting none the less from that crash, and I was now more paranoid then ever. I felt everyone was out to get me, which there probably was someone out to get me, but whatever.

I stared at the men loyal to me throughout this much, who were staring equally hard. I then asked out loud,"If anyone has any ideas of what we should do next, I'm open to them. Just no more fucking titty bars.."

They all chuckled for a second then stared at each other. One stood and cleared his throat, preparing to speak.

"This is fucking ridiculous, we can't take them by ourselves!", he began,"But I might have a plan... if we are to fight them, we need help, and a lot of it."

He began again,"As you probably know, there's a lot of different criminal groups present in Liberty City; the slight gang but mostly mafia type of gangs like us, mafia families, biker gangs, Yakuza, and so on. If we can get enough of them on our side, then we might stand a chance..."

"But don't think they'll join us just like that. We'll probably have to fight them or just show them we're stronger. And about those... ''Redeemed'', I've heard similar stories but about the leaders of a couple other gangs. There aren't a lot and the stories might not be true, but it's our only chance to stand up to ''The Redeemed''.", he finally ended his statement.

He just smirked and sat back down, coughing.

"Well, any objections?"

No one answered, they all stood like statues.

"Alright, I say we go with his plan. We'll start with that biker gang, what's their name...'The Devil's Deciples' is it?"

They stood up as did I.

"Okay, anyone know where to find 'em?"

* * *

Chapter 4 revision. I know the numbers and stuff are getting confusing, but whatever.. This was orignally #4. Thanks to Nicholas for the Saint-Cross once again, and the backstory and idea of the Redeemed.


	4. A New Ally

**A New Ally**

It took us a few days to get enough info to find the actual bikers, but we were now on our way to their hang out spot. We had just arrived at the bikers' hideout when night fell. I entered the biker bar, followed by three of my men.

The bikers were all chatting and having a good time, until they saw us. We looked out of place in the bar. One burly biker got up and walked over to us. I swear to this day that the fucking ground shook when he walked.

"What you doin' here, boy?", he pronounced his 'boy' like 'bwah'.

I stared at him, looking into his eyes. I swear I saw the devil running around in there, laughing at me.

"We're here, to speak to the boss of 'The Devil's Deciples'.", I managed to choke out as he stood oh-so-closely to me. Another burly biker stood up in the corner and came walking towards us. Both of these fucking lumberjacks could've measured seven foot _easy_. I felt like the world's smallest man compared to them.

"What do you want with him?", this biker actually spoke better english.

I sighed, and said,"We need help to take out the Saint-Cross mafia family. They've been moving on our fronts and attacking our men, but we aren't able to take them by ourselves."

Three bikers at a table laughed, all the others joining in. A third biker then got up and joined the other two surrounding me. I swallowed hard, getting the feeling I was about to take a major ass beating.

"Go sit down, Mike, Jim.", the biker called the other two off.

_Mike, Jim_? Those were about the pussiest biker names I ever heard. I damn near burst out laughing.

"Now, I'm the leader. Why the Hell should we help you?"

I cleared my throat and croaked,"It'd be awfully nice?", I cracked a smile after the sentence choked out.

All the bikers erupted with laughter and pointed to us, laughing even harder. The leader was still silent, though.

"You know what? You look like a little bitch, how about we go outside and fight in the parking lot? We'll see if you can beat me."

"So, if I win, and that's a big if, you'll help us? And if I lose...?", I started.

"You get put six feet under."

That was good enough to encourage me! I hardly took a breath as we were walking outside, my men following me, with the bikers closely behind. The leader and I got inside a crudely made circle of men, the leader taking off his leather jacket.

I took my white button up shirt and my black formal jacket off, now a tank top was exposed. He put up his fists, as did I.

He swung first, landing what he would later call a 'soft' hit. It felt like a fucking brick hit me in the chest after a baseball player threw it from point blank range. I heaved greatly and took in a deep gasp off air. He smirked and tried to swing again. I ducked under his punch and landed a solid right hook to his ribs.

He didn't even flinch. I swung three more times, throwing haymakers. Two landed on his jaw, the third on his ribs where I had just delivered a hook to. The haymakers barely made him twitch! I sighed deeply and received a blow to the face, almost breaking my jaw. I now had a black eye and a busted upper lip.

I swung three more times, all haymakers and they all landed on his left and right jaws. This time, he grabbed his face in pain. I took the advantage given and delivered a huge spinning back kick to the back of his knee, making him slump over on his left knee. I then did an axe kick, nailing solidly on his cranium. Now he was on the ground, bleeding from his mouth.

He started to get up, so I axe kicked his back, almost breaking it. I had a lot more power in my legs then I did in my arms, apparently. He now lay on the ground, bleeding from his mouth more. I kicked him in the face, busting his nose. There was a puddle of blood surrounding his face. A minute later and he was back up like he hadn't even been hit at all.

He admitted defeat and shook my hand, it felt like a vice grip from a giant lobster.

"Nice fightin', took me out pretty good.", he said jokingly as he reset his nose. It had broken to the left.

"You didn't pull too many punches yourself.", I felt my jaw, which now had a huge purple lump growing from it.

"By the way, I didn't catch your name.", he said gruffly.

"Gregory, Gregory Jones. But just call me Greg, or not, if you don't want to.", I choked the sentence out and put up my hands defensively.

He chuckled at me and then spoke,"Well, my name's Spike Wallis."

Spike? Are you serious? Jesus, this author needs a better imagination...

He agreed to help us for awhile with our problem. We had a new ally, and now we needed another. We were going to visit a mafia family next.

The Brutonie family.

* * *

I left the biker bar, after getting patched up and making sure I didn't need a hospital right away. The mafia family wouldn't be as helpful as the bikers were, Hell, I didn't expect the bikers themselves to be so helpful.

We arrived at their compound a few hours later, approaching the front doors. As I entered, I received startled emotions and a few men stood up, reaching for something inside their jackets.

"Put the guns down, let him speak.", a seasoned man in a leather chair said as he stare at me.

"I know this is....quite unexpected of me, Mr. Brutonie, but, you see, I need some help. With the Saint-Cross. They've been making moves and killing us off, and we would like to enlist the help of you and your loyal family to help us rid the city of this scum.", I spoke slowly.

He looked over to one of his enforcers, Bruno. He stare at him a few seconds, nodding at him.

"Well, I would accept, but the Saint-Cross have already enlisted us. I would like to help you with your little problem, but I can't. Now, be gone before he might see something and have us both executed.", he told me with a slight chuckle.

"Before who sees something?"

"The boss of the Saint-Cross of course."

I swallowed hard and stalked out the front door, going straight for my car and taking off. We arrived at my house an hour later, I went inside, and the men drove off for the warehouse.

* * *

A few hours after I had gotten back home, I was sleeping, sweating profusely, having a nightmare. I dreamed I was this little kid, witnessing his mother being abused by her boyfriend. I picked up a pipe and cracked his head open with it. He was still alive, though. My mother began yelling at me, then stormed off to her room to take a puff from her crack pipe.

It was all so very strange. What did it mean? My child hood wasn't like this.. The guy tried to stand up, so I wrapped him in Christmas lights and plugged them in, I then filled the bathtub with water and shoved him in. After he had gotten electrocuted and all the power drawn from the Christmas lights, I unplugged them and took the lights off of him. I found the biggest, sharpest knife I could and started to butcher him, blood going everywhere.

After about an hour, the bath water wasn't water any longer, but blood. There was blood on the wall, and my shirt.

Suddenly, I woke up in my bed, soaked to the bone with sweat. What the Hell kind of dream _was_ that? I tried to shake the images from my head, but it was no use. I couldn't sleep at first, the images of the severed limbs and bloody bath tub kept appearing on the inside of my eye lids.

I had lain in my bed, pondering the meaning of the dream, and must have drifted off to sleep, for the next time I awoke it was after six. I sat up on the edge of my bed, noticing my vision was blurry. I couldn't see my hand in front of myself without it looking like it was way off in the distance. I tried standing, but I just fell back down to my bed. So, instead of getting up, laying in my bed for a few more hours would satisfy me.

After eight, I finally woke up again and tried standing, this time my vision was clearer and I could manage to stand. I hobbled to my living room, in my boxers and tank top, and just sat on the couch, clicking the television set on across the room.

I was shivering down to the bones, for some apparent reason. Apart from me having a psychotic dream, of course. I coughed and laid back on the couch, propping my head up on a crimson throw pillow. There was some idiotic show with people acting like jackasses. The coincidental thing was the show was called 'Jackass'. I chuckled a couple times, but apart from that, the show barely drew my attention.

I found myself asleep about thirty minutes later, having another terrifying dream. I dreamed that I had killed my mother after I chopped her boyfriend up and now I was burying her in the middle of a storm.

"I said I'm sorry, momma..", I chanted, sobbing to myself.

These dreams stumped the fuck out of me, I didn't know what either of them meant. I then visioned myself opening my closet door, ten dead bodies falling out as I did. I was terrified with my recent dreams. They all seemed so spontaneous.

A few moments later, I was suddenly sitting on the edge of a floating island, playing a ukulele, or maybe a small guitar, it was fuzzy to me. Everything seemed to be drawn out, like in a anime. I sprang up on the couch, cold sweat dripping from my nose onto my tank top.

"I have to lay off that damn beer..or maybe it's the weed.", I whispered to myself as I straightened up to watch more t.v.

It was a day for me to relax, because Michael came back the day before, without me even knowing it. It was probably because I was getting my ass kicked across town by bikers.

Now, I lay on the couch pondering deeply as to what to do until Michael instructed me further, he took up leadership as soon as he arrived. You could say, I was in a form of being 'unemployed' at the moment.

I got tired of the program I was watching, and decided to take a shower. I went into the restroom, stripping down bare. I noticed that my 'SJ' tattoo had a slight cut in the upper curve of the 'S', but I just ignored it for the time being. I climbed into the shower, turning the knob, which unleashed a steady spray of cold water which warmed up after a moment.

After I got out, I put on a pair of khaki pant shorts and a black tank top, and a black short sleeve button up shirt that was left unbuttoned. I walked out of the restroom and towards my couch, sitting down once I made it. There was another program, a concert, on now. It was a concert of the rapper, 'Eminem'. I payed little attention to the visuals, but listened deeply to the lyrics.

He was performing 'The Way I Am', a fairly old song of his. Sleep welcomed me into its embrace once again, as I drifted off. Now I dreamed that I was falling from a sky scraper, facing the ground. I tried to scream out but my voice was blocked by a lump in my throat. Just as I was about to hit the ground, the ground turned to a field of pillows, making me immediately jerk up on the couch again.

"I have seriously got to stop going to sleep..", I cursed to myself and sat up straight, so that it would be harder to fall asleep.

Then, I heard a noise in my kitchen. I got up and walked lightly over to my kitchen door way. As I came side to side with the door frame, I was welcomed with a metal bat to the head, knocking me out instantly.

A few hours later, I woke up in the same spot and stood up. Feeling a lump emerging on my head, I grasped at it and walked into my kitchen, wobbly and dazed. I saw a note on the table. I picked it up, nearly dropping it and began to read it.

"_Sorry for the bat to the head, was hungry and needed a sandwich. Signed, someone you don't know."_

I cursed loudly and threw the note to the ground, throwing myself off balance. Luckily, I landed in the seat of a chair. I laid my head on the table and slipped into a slumber.

This time, however, there was no dream. I didn't see anything. Just pitch black. Maybe this _was_ the dream. I awoke two hours later, feeling much better, and picked the note back up and made sure I had read it right. Yes, I read it right. It was funny what people do nowadays.

I staggered back to the couch, to find one of the gang's soldiers sitting on my couch, eating a sub and a bag of chips. I wanted to smack the back of his head so badly, it nearly pained me. I plopped down beside him and stared at him, he froze mid bite.

"Hey, Jeff.", I said coyly to him.

He turned to me and cracked a playful smile, trying to force a laugh.

"You didn't happen to catch some hobo running out of here with a metal bat, did you?"

He shook his head and resumed eating. I just chuckled to myself and turned to watch the program that was currently on.

After he had finished his meal, Jeff briefed me on our next project.

"The boss sent me to tell you to be present at 'Ying's Corner Grocery' at about seven PM."

A smirked spread across my face. I knew he was doing this to test me. Apparently, I was going to be promoted in the near future.

"He also said you were going through this one on your own. Good luck with Ying's new insurance policy. He has two burly black guys at the door at all hours, so yeah, better wear a helmet."

I froze, I was going to do the job, with two big gorillas on duty, by _myself_? I laughed at the idea and dismissed the soldier. I then went to my wardrobe and took off my button up shirt, slipping a bulletproof vest over my tank top. I then slipped a basketball jersey over it. The letters 'SJ', one in black, the other in blue, present on the jersey. I took off my pants and put a pair of black 'Dickeys' pants on. Then I slipped my black pair of Nikes on and went outside, after locking my house up.

At the corner store, it was six fifty eight, two minutes before my time appointed to strike the establishment. I put a ski mask on over my face, I then felt around the back seat to find my black hooded jacket, and slipped it on. I brought my glock and a 9mm with me. I was going to have one in either hand. I got out of my car, and ran up to the store, firing at the gorillas guarding the entrance.

I then ran in and shot the cashier, not Mr. Ying, of course. He gave himself a lot of off days. It was some teenage boy with long fair hair and a green and black uniform on. I jumped behind the cash register and took the money, then hopped back over the counter. Out the door, into the car, then down the road I went.


	5. Vacationing to Vice

**Vacationing to Vice**

I pulled up outside my house, noticing the lights in the kitchen were on. About the same time I noticed them, they flicked off and my front door flung open so I took a dive out my car door and rolled over to a large rock that sat in my lawn.

One man had a ski mask on, another was carrying a good sized bag, wearing a black hoodie with the hood over his head, mostly hiding his face. I recognized them both at once, they were fair ranked Saint Cross mafia family members.

I rolled behind my car and took a snub nosed revolver from under by bumper, since both my glock and my 9mm were in the car. The mafia men noticed something as they became more cautious about approaching my car, one guy taking out his pistol and the other taking a butterfly knife from his back pocket and flipped it open with his free hand.

"Go check it out John..it might be 'im!", the man carrying the sack whispered hoarsly to his partner.

The pistol wielder came closer to the back end of my car and suddenly leaped behind it. Luckily, I had already made my way to the other side of the vehicle before he had time to even get close.

The man with the sack didn't have time to notice anything before I sprung up, grabbed him roughly by his neck and twisted it ruggedly to one side. I drug him silently in front of my car and crouched back down before the other man could look in my direction.

"Aw, it's nothing, Ricky. Wait, Ricky? Where'd you go!?", "John" said as he noticed his missed cohort.

I crawled as if I were in the army to the other end of the vehicle and slit the back of the man's ankles with the knife I swiped from the sack bearer. He yowled in pain and fell to the ground, blood spurting from his feet. I acted quickly and stabbed him in the jugular vein, killing him within seconds.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I could hear someone sneaking up behind me as I stood crouched beside the second body, so I spun around and shot with the revolver, nailing the prowler in the left side of his chest, roughly dead center to his heart. I quickly ran over to him and looked closer at who I had shot, it was yet another Saint-Cross. I drug him to the other body, the man with the pistol, and went and got the other corpse, making a small pile out of them.

I unlatched my trunk and quickly put all the bodies inside, making sure to wipe the blood off my driveway with their suits, tossing the knife and the pistol in with them.

* * *

After all of that, I had gone to sleep and now awoke, six hours later, to my vision once again being blurry. I noticed some men in black suits in a crude circle around my bed, one snatched me up and threw me against a wall, introducing a lead pipe to my face a few seconds later.

I could hear him snickering to himself as he drag me and lay me in the trunk of the car, his partners getting in with him and some getting in a separate car.

I awoke at least an hour later in what seemed to be a cellar of sorts. My vision unblurred enough for me to see that I was surrounded by men in suits. One had a baseball bat, and he was the one that looked the most pissed off to have me there in front of him. The others just stood scowling at me as if I had just corrupted their daughters or some other heinous act.

"You have some nerve, trying to take US out! Unbelievable, you, you..Jesters..I forgot your fuckin' name I'm so angry with you right now! I should knock your head right off those smug shoulders of yours, you piece of shit son of a bitch!", the man with the bat started in on me.

Although I couldn't hear half of it, he didn't seem like he realized that. He turned towards the wall for a moment, laying his hand briefly on the red brick before he turned around and gave my abdomen a quick jab with the bat. I tried to grab my torso in pain, but it seemed my hands were tied behind my back.

He then swung straight into a headshot with the bat and caught me square on the temple, almost putting me out again! Two men behind me punched me twice a piece in the upper part of my back, one punch landing on my spinal cord.

The punch stung for a bit but quickly faded as fast as it came. The man with the bat threw the bat against the wall, making it bounce off and hit me in my face.

"Lucky, eh? Look, if you wanna get out of here alive, you gotta do what I want you to do, capiche? Now, your going to betray your "friends" and kill Michael. Thus, leaving the gang in ruins and letting us come along and pick up the pieces. Now, do you understand or do I have to attempt another home run on your face?", the boss leaned in closer.

I could barely speak, the bat landed on my jaw and had it aching badly.

"I...understand.", I spoke slowly, trying to hold back from coughing up blood.

"Good, now off with you, Gregory. I hope we don't have to have this conversation again..", the man dismissed me and his henchmen.

They drug me up a flight or maybe two of stairs, making sure at least one limb of my body hit each and every stair, untied my wrists once we got to the desired room, and threw me into a room, making me land hard on the concrete floor.

There was a black button up long sleeve shirt and a pair of black slacks folded neatly on the bed, as I took a glance around the room. I also saw a pair of black dress shoes paired together against the far wall.

I sighed in relief when I realized they weren't coming back to kick my ass some more, and straightened myself up so I was sitting with my back against the wall. I stood up, rubbing the marks the rope had left on my wrists while I looked around again at the room.

It was a simple room, with a bed, a window, a closet, and for some reason, a mirror. I plopped back down on the bed and stare down at my shirt. As expected, it was coated in my blood and was still damp from it. I slowly took the basketball jersey off, and threw it to the side of the bed, slipping the black shirt on.

The black shirt felt stiff and itchy, but it was better than walking around looking like a horror movie corpse. I slipped my pants off a few minutes after I had situated the shirt comfortably and slipped the black ones on. Again, the pants were stiff but they weren't as itchy.

The shoes came next, and as I slipped them on, I heard the constant patter of feet coming down the hallway, getting louder as they got closer. I sighed and wondered what it could be now, relieved that I had gotten my clothes changed just in time for the men to barge in without seeing me in my boxers.

"The boss wants to see you, tell you about your first job. Get up there quick, don't want to be killed your first day, do ya?", he growled to me as he left the room as quickly as he came.

I sighed and followed him out, down the hall, and up a flight of stairs. The leader of the mafia family was sitting in a dark red leather chair that could spin around in circles. He was looking out one of his windows as we came in and somehow noticed us even though we hadn't made a single sound.

"Well, look who isn't hanging from the ceiling by a rope of bed sheets!", the boss chuckled to himself.

What in the holy blue Hell did he mean by that? I didn't have time to answer as he was already prodding me with questions.

"Well, you want to know about your first job, don't you? A little inquiry would be appreciated, Gregory!", the old man said as he turned towards the window he was facing when we came into the room.

The man who had led me up prodded me with a finger that felt like a sharp knife, making me blurt out a sentence.

"What is it you want me to do? Doesn't seem like I have a choice in the matter anyways.", I asked.

He turned around again and stare at me with his dark green piercing eyes. They were like green coals that had just been tossed into the flaming pits of Hell.

"Since your so enthusiastic, I'll spare most of the detail. You have to kill a car load of Jesters coming this way before they can carry out a rescue plan. If we die, you die, remember that. It'll help you in the long run."

I swallowed hard as I took in the details of the mission. I had to kill a car load of my own people! I knew it was my life on the line for this little task, but it was the men that were loyal to me even though I showed little leadership in our time of dire need. I couldn't just swoop in and take their lives as if I were some kind of ghetto God.

I didn't know how it would be possible but somehow I would have to avoid them dieing. It would take some skill and determination but I thought I could manage it.

"Well, you going to do it or do we have to have Big Chuck take you in the back to "inspire" you?", the boss asked impatiently.

I nodded my head in response and stare deep into his eyes, as if I were trying to examine the very soul of the man, if only he had one.

"Good, good. Now we don't have to kill you. Yet.", he chuckled as the man started to lead me back to my room.

"Oh yeah, the task is being carried out tomorrow, so get a good night's sleep, pretty boy."

I heard his insane laughter even down in the hall on the way to my room. I would never be able to sleep with what I would have to do dawning over me! Was this man mad? None the less, I had time to think and eventually I fell asleep.

* * *

**The next morning...**

I awoke at the sound of a banging on the wall of my room.

"Get up, sunshine.", the man I now knew as "Big Chuck" said in a deep, gruff voice.

I sat on the edge of the bed and wiped my eyes, slipping my shoes back on. I stood and followed him out the door and down the hall, back to the boss's room that we had visited the day before. The boss had a cigar in his mouth, newly lit, as he saw us entering the room.

"Ah, your still alive I see! Well, that's a new record. Your going to take a ride with Chuck and Larry, they're going to escort you to your compound and your going to slip a bomb under the car of those Jesters and watch the explosion. Hope you like fireworks.", he said as he turned around to look out his window once more.

Chuck led me outside to a car that already had a rather muscular man sitting in the driver's seat, so I assumed he was Larry. I climbed into the back as Chuck handed me a bomb set to a detonator.

We pulled out of the long drive way and down the road a few moments later, as I sat in the back examining the bomb I was handed. The two gorillas in the front seat looked back a few times at me on the way there and made me kind of nervous.

"Now, kid, when we get to this place don't wuss out, it would only mean your death. Just slip the bomb under the car and hop the fuck in so we can get out of there before they see anything.", Chuck was trying to encourage me.

I sighed as our compound came in site and prepared to hop out of the car. The other two men got out with me and were both carrying Uzis, I guess in case of an attack or attempted escape.

I ran over to a car quietly and slipped the bomb under the rear of the car, closest to the gas tank. It wasn't easy to force myself to perform this action but if I wanted to stay alive to see my next birthday, it would have to be this way. I saw a person coming out of the front so I quickly dashed to the car to get in at the same time as the other two men got in, and we got away before anyone saw anything. It was a perfect job, although I was performing it against my men instead of with them.

The four that had come out unsuspectingly got into the car and pulled out, heading for the compound as expected. I swallowed hard as we began to follow them. Now I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of this kind of stuff! They stopped at a red light and then pulled into a gas station, parking closely to the gas pumps.

"Well, would you look at that! Now we get four times as much explosion for one small price.", Larry said jokingly.

One man went into the store, with another getting out and starting to pump gasoline into the car. This is it, I was going to blow them and a group of innocents up along with them. I took the small metallic object from my pocket and place my thumb on the button. Now, just to wait for the other guy to come out and get into the car.

He came out a few moments later and got into the car, as did the other man. I waited no longer, and with one swift movement, snapped the neck of Chuck, taking the Uzi that lay beside him, and shot Larry in his face just before he squeezed the trigger of his gun.

After I had killed the two men in front of me, I pushed the driver out the car door and got into the front seat, following after my men who were speeding off in their car. The other guy was left in his seat for the moment. We were at the compound in seconds and I followed them in after snatching the Uzi that Larry had in his hand.

When I entered the room, I received stares of disbelief.

"You're...you're alive? We thought you were dead! You've been missing for two days!", one of the men managed to stammer out.

I just looked at him for a few seconds and looked towards Michael, who was sitting in a chair at the table with three other men. I walked towards the table and sat in the only empty seat left.

"Well, how nice of you to join us, princess! Where the Hell have you been? It's been two fucking days and we've got the Saint-Cross and for some reason the Brutonnie family up the ass! We've only successfully taken a couple of our hoods back from the motherfuckers, and they're still trying to wipe us ou!", Michael said in his rage.

I sat at the table for a moment, looking down at the wood. I slowly laid both my Uzis on the surface and looked up at Michael.

"You want to know where I've been, Michael? I've been in the Saint-Cross mafia compound. That's where...that's where I've been all this time.", I began yelling midway through my last sentence.

"I've been sitting in the compound of our enemies, being blackmailed into killing my own people!", I settled back down into my chair, returning my gaze to one of the Uzis on the table.

Michael sat with one of his arms over the back of the chair for a moment, looking at me with a dumbfounded smirk on his face.

"Jesus, Greg.", he said.

"Shit man, you mean you were going to have to kill to squad I sent to the compound to find you? How did they get you anyways?"

"I was ambushed in my own damn bedroom. I killed three of them the night before and I guess they weren't too pleased about it. I'm damn they decided to use me instead of killing me right then and there.", I said as I received astonished stares.

I sighed heavily and continued on.

"The men took me to their compound and tied me to a chair. That's when I woke up. I got roughed up a bit and was forced to do a job for them, blow up a car full of our soldiers. I accepted, and later shot one of the guys I was with and snapped the neck of the other. And, here we are.", I took a deep breath and sat there, still looking at the Uzi on the table.

"Man, I had no idea...Look, I think it's better if you lay real low for a while...I want you to venture out the Vice City and visit our chapter there.", Michael began.

My mouth flew open, hanging open for a minute at the least. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, he wanted me to run away, to Vice City no less! I had no choice and thought about it, deciding it was for the best.

"Alright, Mike, I'll go. You already got the tickets?", I asked as I regained my composure.

"Yeah, planned ahead. You're scheduled to leave in about five hours, make sure to pack pretty lightly, you can buy more things when you get out there. We got you a place on Starfish Island."

"Wait, isn't that the island that Tommy Vercetti, God rest his soul, had a showdown with Ricardo Diaz? Before he was taken down in that major police firefight, of course.", I asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah, the very same. It isn't the mansion you'll be taking though, it's a smug little house a street over. You better get off to your house to pack now. I'll talk to you once you arrive.", Michael said as he stare at the table for a few seconds, then up at me.

I left and went home, going to the airport after I had packed and gotten ready.

* * *

**A few hours later...**

I had arrived in Escobar International Airport, expecting a phone call from Michael.

A Cuban looking man held up a sign saying,"Gregory.". I walked over to him cautiously with my suitcase.

"I'm Gregory."

"Good, get in the car, we have to go.", the man said. He wore a Hawaii style shirt, palm trees and stuff, with a pair of khakis, some sneakers, and a full head of shoulder length hair, with a mustache and goatee combo.

I climbed into the back of a teal colored Admiral, as instructed.

"What took you? I've been waiting for an hour!", he said in an annoyed tone.

"I had to be searched by security, apparently, it's a crime to have a nice suit.", I said.

"Well, your boss called ahead and arranged for you to be picked up. I'm Jose Robina.", he replied.

"Wow, son of Umberto Robina?", I asked in astonishment.

"No, we not related. I get that all the time."

We drove in silence the rest of the way, arriving in front of a white one story house about thirty minutes later.

"Alright, hope it works out for you here in Vice.", Jose said as he drove off after I got my luggage out.

I took a deep breath as I examined my temporary home, going inside a second later.

After I had unpacked all my things, I sat in the pea green couch in the living room, clicking the television set on across the room. I dozed off as usual a few minutes later.

The phone rang, jolting me awake, and I clambered over to it, picking it up not a second too late.

"Greg? You there?", Michael asked on the other end.

I wiped my eyes,"Yeah, I'm here...sleepy though...What is it?"

"I arrange for you to meet the leader of the Vice chapter at a Beef Bandit, in the North Point Mall, in Vice Point. You should probably call a taxi, seeing as you're still a tourist and all."

I shook my head, waking myself up more.

"Alright man, I leave for it in a few minutes. Nice speaking to you."

He said his goodbye and I heard a click a few seconds later, putting the receiver on the hook seconds afterward. I called a taxi company after I found a up to date phone book, and was outside waiting, being picked up a few minutes later.

At the mall, I proceeded in and arrived at the Beef Bandit fast food joint a minute later. A man wearing a powder blue suit was waiting at the counter.

"You Greg?", he asked as I approached.

I nodded, sticking out my hand in a friendly act.

"Good, I'm Rick, let's go.", he said as he shook my hand and began towards the exit.

* * *

Finally! I'm done with the revisions. Hope you enjoy the story so far, don't forget to review!


	6. Business Is Business

**Business Is Business**

Rick and I had gotten into his white Infernus, driving down the road a bit fast.

"Alright kid, we're going to this meeting over in the Downtown section, right beside that Well Stacked Pizza place. This guy, he's from the Cuban gang. We're making a deal with him so that he doesn't screw up our next shipment of guns that are coming in, in a couple weeks."

I nodded the whole time he spoke, thinking of what might happen should something go wrong.

Rick turned a corner sharply, making me press against a door, then said,"Look under the front of that seat, there should be a brown paper bag."

I felt under the seat, taking the brown paper bag out.

"Damn, this is kinda heavy..", I said, examining the bag.

"Yeah, genius, look inside it. There's a Desert Eagle, hope you can use one.", hey said, pulling another sharp corner.

I took the polished Desert Eagle out, weighing it in my hand.

"Hey, I heard these can dislocate your shoulder if you don't use it right...that ever happened that you know of?"

Rick remained silent for a moment, then looked at me and said,"Yeah, as a matter of fact it dislocated my arm when I first used it. Fucked me up pretty good it did, the fact that I had guys shooting at me at the time didn't help a bit."

I swallowed hard and looked back at the gun,"You sure these Cubans won't try to kill us..?"

He chuckled,"Of course they will, if they don't like what we're saying. That's why you're going to get on the roof and take 'em by surprise. If, they try something."

We arrived in the alley a few minutes later, we both got out at the same time and jogged for the alley.

"Alright, you see that staircase? Go up there and keep low and as quiet as possible, got it? You screw this up, I don't care what Michael says or does, your ass is mine. Now go, here come the Cubans."

I ran up the metallic staircase, checking my gun for ammo. Luckily for me, it had a full clip. The Cubans pulled up in a black Hermes, with a flame on the front end, a burly Cuban got out of the car slowly, his upper body being exposed a few seconds later. He didn't have tattoos, surprisingly.

Another Cuban got out, wearing black dress pants with a white tank top that was tucked in. He walked up to Rick and engaged in conversation, I was too far away to hear.

Apparently, something went wrong, because Rick pulled a pistol and shot the tank topped man in the forehead, shooting the other in the leg, only after the other had pulled a sub-machine gun, though. I held up the Desert Eagle, aiming it carefully. I fired once, hitting the man in the neck, but staggering me backwards.

I ran down the stairs, jumping down the last few, and ran to the car after Rick had climbed in, shortly making our escape afterwords.

"What the Hell was that about?!", I yelled.

"He said something about my mom and a llama, don't worry about it. Just calm down and make sure you don't see any following us.", he said, swear pouring down his face, as he turned furiously around a corner.

"Haven't you ever watched a movie?! They come back even more pissed off and screw you up ever more than before!"

He looked at me a moment then put his sights back on the road.

"You did good back there. Michael is right to trust you. I hope we get you some more work soon."

I sighed, then looked over at him,"What happened to 'laying low'? This whole 'Visiting Vice City' thing isn't going to work if I attract attention from the Saint-Cross chapter in this city! Not to mention the other gangs that might want to disembowel me for what I just did and probably will do!"

Rick laughed for a moment,"Kid, don't worry. I'll have a couple guys posted outside your door at all times, you're completely safe. Now, you wanna stop by a club and have a couple drinks or what?", he said, giving a slight grin.

"Yeah, sure, whatever...", I said, as I cradled the right side of my face in my hand.

After the club, he stumbled out of the business, rambling on about some Yugoslavian man that screwed him over in a deal about a month ago. I wondered if that man and the truck driver that rammed into my car a few days ago could possibly be the same person or if he was just making shit up, seeing as he's drunk and all. I forgot about it, and tried to steady Rick out, making him get into the passenger's side of his Infernus. He was clearly in no condition to drive.

I hopped in and started the car, pulling off a few moments later.

"Hey man, I'm....I'm staying in the O-ocean View Hotel...can you drop me...off?", he said, a drunken look on his face.

I pulled up in front of the Hotel, waiting for him to get inside after he gave me a wave that nearly made him go tumbling down the front steps. I drove off towards my house on Starfish Island, arriving about twenty minutes later.

I went in, had lain down, and starting watching t.v. within a few minutes, dozing off shortly after. I may have been sober enough to drive, but I had a couple drinks none the less.

* * *

When I woke up, the next morning, Rick was sitting in a chair across from me, staring at me as I slept.

"Rise and shine, princess. We have to be somewhere in about thirty minutes so how about you hurry it up with the getting dressed and all? The Cubans aren't too happy with how that meeting turned out yesterday. They killed a car load of our guys this morning, and tried to take one of our businesses. Luckily, the meat heads managed to hold them off until we get there.", he said, as he got up and strolled over to the window.

"But never mind that. They said they wanted to make another meeting, that's where were heading to. I have a really bad feeling, so I'm going to have you stay behind the car once we get there, with a AK, and if anything goes wrong..I want you to come out spraying whatever you see."

I had gotten a change of clothes and we were now heading for a white Admiral, on our way to yet another meeting, in Downtown once again. Beside the Well Stacked Pizza place none the less.

"I'll do my best, but this is getting pretty hot for me, I thought I was supposed to be laying low.", I said, climbing into the passenger's seat.

"Hey, I already told you, don't worry. No one in this city even knows you, or cares to know you, you're covered! Look, just make sure you have a clear mind when we get to this meeting. By the way, the AK is in the seat behind you, make sure to check the ammo. Can't remember if I stocked it or not.", Rick said as we sped down the street, pulling up beside the pizza place.

I got out, opened the back passenger's side door, taking the AK with me to the back of the car, checking the magazine for ammo. The magazine was again full, luckily.

A Hermes pulled up about ten minutes later, much like the one I saw yesterday. Three Cubans got out, another fallowing a few minutes later. Two of the first three to get out secured their end of the alley, as the other stood with the last one to emerge from the car.

"Okay, you wanted to speak to me? I'm real sorry about what happened yesterday, your guy started it, I swear.", Rick said, almost jokingly.

"Hey, I didn't come here to listen to your bullshit, okay? We here to talk business. Look, after the shit you pull yesterday, I ain't so sure I wanna leave those boats alone. Usted consiguió pagarnos dobles. You gotta pay us double. Or you can kiss your little fancy boats adiós.", what seemed like the leader of the group spoke to Rick.

"Are you kidding me? You want twenty _thousand_ dollars?! How the Hell will we afford that?!", Rick seemed like he was getting nervous.

"Hey, you shouldn't have done what you done. We ain't got a choice, amigo. You can pay, or we blow your boats out of the water.", he looked over to his men, guarding their end of the alley, as they looked at him.

Rick sighed heavily, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at the gravel they were standing on.

"Alright, look. We can pay you ten now, and the other ten in a few months, how about that? We both got a lot riding on this deal, if we don't want a full scale war between us. I think we both want to avoid that-", Rick was semi-cut off as a black Rumpo van, with the pizza company's logo and name on the side, rolled up behind the Hermes, almost baffling the Cubans.

"What the fuck, hombre, you screwing us or what?!", the leader said, turned around and pulling out his pistol.

Just then, a group of Saint-Cross burst from the van, all with sub machine guns. They cleared the alley within five minutes, and pulled off.

Rick had dived behind the car, and I was already behind the car, so we were safe. The Cubans weren't so lucky. All were killed except the leader, he had been shot in the leg twice.

"Ah, God damn it! What the fuck!"

Rick ran over to him, putting pressure on the wound.

"Shit! Greg, we got to get him to a hospital, open the door!", Rick said, lifting the Cuban from the ground, and hobbling him over to the car, laying him inside.

"You drive, I have to keep pressure on the wounds!", he said, tossing me the keys.

I hopped into the driver's seat, starting the car and taking off a few minutes later.

At the hospital, they took the man into the emergency room almost as soon as we arrived, advising us to stay in the waiting room for a report a few minutes later. Rick and I weren't that worried, but we did worry about how pissed the Cubans would be after this.

"Damned Saint-Cross...they always screw us over. You had to deal with this shit back in Liberty, didn't you? You know what I'm talking about then. They've messed a lot of deals up just like they did today. We always get blamed of course, only complimenting their plans.", Rick said, leaning on a wall in thought.

I was sitting in a chair against the white walls of the hospital, trying to figure out if they knew I was here, in Vice. It didn't really matter, but I'd rather them find out about me later then sooner.

A doctor emerged minutes later, looking at a chart.

"Well, your friend Santino will be alright. He sustained a bullet to the knee cap and one to the shin, but he'll make it. He may have to use crutches for quite sometime though."

Rick breathed a sigh of relief as I rose from my chair and started slowly for the door.

"Alright, see you around, doc.", Rick, saying goodbye to the doctor, went for the door also.

I took my usual seat in the car and Rick climbed into his.

"That was quite a scare we had. Hope they understand this wasn't our doing. After all, we have a witness this time. We better get going.", Rick said as he pulled out of the parking lot and down the street.

We arrived back at my house thirty minutes later and we said our goodbyes, as I made my way to the couch.

* * *

The next day, Rick was once again sitting in front of me. I jolted up into a sitting position, and wiped my eyes.

"Damn! How the Hell do you keep getting in here?!", I said, standing up.

"Relax, tough guy. I have a spare key, this used to be my house until I moved up in the world. Look, I need you to do something for me. The Saint-Cross around here, they recognize me. They haven't seen or heard you, so you can surprise them.", Rick began.

I shook my head slowly, knowing where this was going.

Rick sighed and began again,"I know you're trying to lay low, but I need you to go over to the 'Bunch of Tools' tool company, in Vice Point. A fair ranked member of the Saint-Cross is there visiting the place, it's one of their fronts. That's where you come in, I need you to kill him and his men, then convince the owner that we can provide better protection than those bastards, thus gaining us another front."

I suddenly picked up on something,"Wait a damn minute, what's with all these mentions of 'fronts' lately? Are we pushing drugs or something? I swear no one ever tells me anything anymore!"

Rick laughed for a moment then started,"Kid, you probably don't get told half of what's going on, for your own well being. We are, as a matter of fact, 'pushing' drugs. Why, do you have a problem with it?"

"Nah, if we can make money like that, it's fine as long as I don't have to get too deeply involved. But I would appreciate to know about it so if some motherfucker comes up and tries to kill me because of it, I'll know why.", I walked over to a closet, pulling out a black hoodie. I slipped it over my tank top, it went down over the waistband of my black pants.

"Look, I'll take care of this guy, you just make sure I get _paid_ for this job. Alright? Make yourself at home I guess.", I said, walking out the door and getting into his white Admiral. He had walked out behind me, for whatever reason.

"You're forgetting these, smart ass.", Rick said, waving the keys at me.

"Whatever.", I said, taking the keys from him.

"Y'all come back now, ya hear?", Rick taunted as I pulled out and down the road.

He must have planned ahead, because he left me a lift surprise inside. An AK-47 with a fully loaded clip was sitting in the seat next to me.

* * *

A few moments later, I pulled up in the parking lot of the tool company, spotting a black Sedan that was sitting in the space closest to the store. I got out with my gun and ran into the shop. There were two Saint-Cross members standing on either side of the fair ranked member Rick mentioned, so I sniped both of them first and jabbed the gun into the seasoned man's back.

"What the-?! Who the Hell are...wait a minute. You're Gregory, aren't you? Someone mentioned you were in town and advised me to watch myself. I didn't listen to them though. Well, I see what that got me, huh?", he said, chuckling at the end.

I pushed him forward and shot him in the head four times, his lifeless body falling onto the counter before slipping down to the floor.

"Hey, you, tell your boss he better pledge himself to the Jesters or make the arrangements of his funeral pretty soon.", I said to a teenage looking kid dressed in a worker's uniform.

"Oh, by the way, take care of these bodies. And remember, guilty is a very dirty word for someone in your position, and the cops shouldn't be called if you want to enjoy your life, friend."


	7. First Encounters

**First Encounters**

"I took care of that tool company.", I said as I walked in, talking to Rick.

"Good, because I need you to meet my contact across town. He's staying in the Ocean View Hotel. Room 145, he expects you to be there within a couple hours. Drop by the Ammu-Nation, there's a pistol and a couple clips in the alley behind it."

I sighed, and walked back out. I hopped into the white Admiral and turned the key in the ignition, starting off for the hotel.

The hotel looked run down as usual, a woman in a bikini skated by with her fancy looking roller blades. I coughed up flem and spat it out on the sidewalk as she came by, she made a disgusted face and slide into the alley.

I chuckled as I heard her scream and crash into some trash cans, then strolled into the building.

There was a man in a red button up shirt with black palm trees all over it behind the desk, he was wiping the counter top for some odd reason. Probably just bored.

"Hey, is there anyone in room 145, or do you know?"

He just looked up at me as he wiped and looked back down at the counter.

"Well, have a nice day to you, too...", I said as I began for the stairs.

After five flights of stairs, I was finally to the hundreds, a long ass hallway awaited me. I sighed deeply and began trudging down the hallway, until I reached 140, then I collapsed on the floor and started taking deep breaths in as I caught myself halfway down, steadying myself against the wall.

Then, at room 145, someone emerged. He had a black tank top on with khaki slacks and a cap pulled down over his face.

"You Greg, by any chance?"

I puffed a couple more times then looked over to him.

"Yeah, you the contact..?"

"Name's Rico. Let's go.", he said as he strolled past me and got onto a elevator that an elderly white couple had just gotten off of.

"Wait, there's a fucking elevator..?!", I puffed.

"Yeah, right beside the stair case...wait. Did the door say 'Janitor's Closet'?"

I nodded my head, and finally walked over inside the elevator, leaning against the metallic wall.

"Those damned kids must've changed the plates again. No worries, though. At least you got some exercise.."

We got down to the lobby and strolled out of the building, hopping into the Admiral and pulling off down the street a few minutes later.

"Hey, our stop is up where the old Cortez boat was. You know where I'm talking about, right?", Rico asked.

I nodded and took a sharp left, almost missing the turn to the docks.

"There's a guy I got to see here, he's down in the parking lot. Should be in a red Cheetah."

I pulled down into the underground lot and turned the engine off as Rico climbed out and walked over to a red Cheetah.

Then, I heard the deep rumble of motorcycles, choppers more precisely. I realized what was going on.

That damned biker gang must have a chapter in Vice and know that I'm here.

I quickly jumped out of the car, popping the trunk as I did. I pulled the Uzi and the Glock 9 I had stashed in the trunk, lucky that the clips were full.

Two bikes came inside the parking lot, another three pulling up near the entrance, blocking it. They all had either a bat or a chain, one had a shotgun, in case things got out of hand I suppose.

Two came rushing at me, so I uppercutted one and sent him sprawling onto the ground, the bat rolling and narrowly tripping the other man. He slipped and went face first onto the bat, knocking him out.

Two for the price of one, I was getting good at this hand to hand shit...well, bat to hand, but whatever.

Another came at me with a chain, as I quickly snatched up one of the bats. The chain instantly wrapped around the bat and the guy on the other end snatched the bat as quickly as I had gotten it, swinging the chain once again as the bat flew free.

Luckily, the idiot miscalculated and smacked his partner with the shotgun in the face, making him drop the gun and grab his head in pain. The shotgun went off and nailed one of the other two guys in the leg, damn near blowing the whole thing off.

Boy, these guys are real sloppy..

I suddenly remembered I had two guns, and shot the guy with the bat a few times in the gut, and aimed at the last one. He had vanished, apparently, but I soon knew where he was. A bat introduced itself to my head, and sent me flying into a wall, my ears ringing and my vision blurry.

He hit me twice more in the abdomen, but I grabbed my Glock and shot him twice, once in both knee caps.

He yowled in pain and went down to the ground, gripping his knees like that would some how make the pain go away. I shot him in his head and got up in time to see the ones that weren't killed take off on their bikes, a brick landing at my feet.

A note was attached to it, so I took it and read it.

"_The Redeemed know you're here. They're coming. We were just a diversion._"

"Now what in the Hell does this mean?", I asked myself as I looked up to see the red Cheetah had vanished, a cell phone now in it's empty place.

I cursed to myself and ran over to pick up the phone, just as it rang. The number revealed the people behind it, _The Redeemed._

I answered.

"I see you have gotten our message, Gregory. We have you're friend, 'Rico'. You'll have to face off with us if you want to rescue him. Don't worry, we won't kill him, until you show up, that is.", a deep voiced man said on the other end, soon laughing hardily and hanging up.

I swore at the top of my lungs and smashed the phone against the ground in a fit of rage. Then, I realized. How would I know where to meet them now...?

Back at the house on Starfish Island, I had just explained the story to Rick and he was freaking out.

"They did what?! How the fuck could they take Rico? What in the Hell does he have to do with all this?!", Rick was, as I said, freaking out.

"We have to deal with the Saint-Cross taking back their front, with interest, and now this?!", Rick was yelling.

"Wait, they did? When the Hell did this happen?!"

Rick was pacing the floor, hands on his hips.

"You have to get Rico back. He was our answer to the Saint-Cross. Do you have any idea how good that motherfucker is with weapons and technology? He might not look like it, but he is. We need him..", Rick let out a deep sigh.

"Why are you still here?!", Rick said before storming into the living room.

I shook my head slowly and walked out the door, getting back into my car, spotting a cell phone in the passenger's seat. Lucky for me, they decided to give me another chance. The phone began to ring, so I answered it.

"Well, haven't smashed this one yet I see. Would you like to know where to meet us?", the same deep, almost demonic voice said on the other end.

"Where?"

He chuckled,"Try you're living room, maybe?".

I hung up the phone and dashed inside the house to see Rick on the couch in the living room. I walked over to him after inspecting the room, he hadn't said a word since I entered.

"Rick? You okay, Rick?"

Suddenly, his head toppled over and into the floor, blood spurting from the stump that was his neck. I nearly puked when I took the sight in, then a burly man grabbed hold of me.

"Nice to see you, Gregory.", a man in a black trench coat with a wide brimmed hat pulled down over his face said as he strolled into the room.

"What the Hell did you kill him for?! And where's Rico!?", I said in a furious tone.

"Easy, boy, easy. Rick here was a traitor. A traitor to you're...'gang' as you like to refer to it. We merely did you a favor."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"He wasn't a traitor, he helped me from day one!"

The mysterious figure took a chuckle and said,"You ever wonder how the Saint-Cross figured out about your and the Cubans' meeting? Classic cliché, isn't it?"

It was seeming like a action movie full of cliches, now that I think about it.

"We....would like to recruit you, into the elite. We've observed you're skill, and I must say, out of the many hood rats and thugs I've seen, you've shown the most potential.", the figure was now strolling back and forth in front of me as the burly man nearly bear hugged me.

"You're supposedly this all mighty group of elite individuals, but you want to recruit me? You and you're men are nearly God like, according to stories. Why would you want me?"

He suddenly took interest in what I was saying, because he stopped in his tracks and looked over at me.

"Boy, you believe just about anything, huh? How in the holy blue Heavens would anyone accomplish immortal feats like those mentioned in story? We aren't some kind of immortal group of people that can throw cars and kill people with our minds. Why, if that was true, we'd be ruling the world by now!", he began chuckling and laughing like a mad man.

"These stories make me absolutely tickled to my bones when I hear them mentioned. No, we are not immortal. We are merely hitmen, waiting for our next job. We got our name because most of us were ex-cons and now we serve a purpose to society. We clean up the messes the government and officials want us to clean up."

I listened closely to what the man was saying, the man holding me loosening his grip.

"They hire us to take out opponents, clean up counties, etcetera etcetera. We only do what is asked of us, that's why we haven't taken you or you're gang out, yet. Your friend here, Rick, had to be killed because of the Saint-Cross. They were making a fuss and decided to seek us, so we took the job and accepted the large payment. And, as you see, we're pretty good at our job."

The man had now let me go all together and I sat on the couch as the man spoke.

"So, what you're saying is, you're just regular people, performing un-Godly tasks?"

He nodded in silence and began strolling about once more.

"You see, that is why we want to recruit you. You've shown you can damn well take out a gang of people if you please."

I sat in thought for a few minutes, then looked back up at him as he stare at me from across the room.

"What happens if I join..?"

He looked surprised for a moment then shook his head.

"Well, you kill like you are now. That's about it, except you get paid for it. And only for certain people."

I sighed then looked over at a clock hanging above a doorway.

"It's about time we got this over with, so where's Rico?"

"We...disposed of him."

I yawned, then laid back in the chair I sat in.

"Well, damn. Looks like I'm going to have to leave before I get a car shoved in my ass by my gang...both kills more than likely look more than convicting."

I had closed my eyes, and as I now opened them, the men were gone. Rick was still on the couch dead, though.

Days later, I was back in Liberty with all my things I had taken with me, being picked up by Michael.

"Damn kid, by that story you told me on the phone, you were nearly dead for a second. Glad you survived, though.", Michael said as he pulled off, out of the airport entrance lane.

"Yeah, at least I know who the Hell the 'Redeemed' really are now.."


	8. An offer you can't refuse

"**An offer you can't refuse..."**

Michael and I pulled up outside the warehouse, a couple jesters leaning against the building passing a blunt around greeted us.

"Nice to have you back, Greg.", one of the soldiers told me as I went into the door behind Michael.

He sat at a table, and I sat across from him.

"Well, Greg, I have to go to San Andreas and make sure they're okay. Make sure the Redeemed haven't gotten to them. I'll be back in a few days though, I'm leaving today.", he said as he stood up once more and strolled around the room.

"We got a guy to bust Paul out of the slammer, so he should be by any moment."

My eyes suddenly widened.

"Holy shit! That guy must be awesome at what he does to manage to break him out.."

"Yeah, he's pretty solid at what he does. My flights' in an hour, so I gotta' go. See you around, kid.", Michael said as he strolled out the door, and got into his car.

**A couple days later...**

I sat in my chair soon enough to hear the sounds of a car pulling up behind the warehouse.

"That must be Paul."

Suddenly, Paul ran in and sat down in a chair as he regained his breath.

"Hey....Greg...how's it going.?", he puffed.

"Well, Michael went off to San Andreas to check on business there. I just got back from Vice City today, and you've been busted out, so I'd say today was a good day."

Paul chuckled to himself and stared at the wall.

"You know, there isn't much to do in the big house. Staring at walls and fighting for your ass isn't exactly fun. How's about we go out and do something?", Paul said with a grin on his face.

"Sure, let's g--", the phone suddenly rang.

I picked up the receiver, spoke with someone from Vice for a few moments, then hung up.

"Well, I need you to take over for me. I have to make a sudden trip to San Andreas.."

"Why, what's up?"

I sighed and looked back up at Paul.

"Well, in Vice, the gang is running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and the Saint-Cross just took a chunk of the chapter out. I have to go to San Andreas to get some reinforcements as soon as I can."

Paul swallowed hard and stood up, shaking my hand as I stood.

"Well, I'd hate to be in your position, man. Best of luck to you with all this."

I just nodded my head and walked out, climbing into a car and driving off a few minutes later, going to see when the next flight to San Andreas was.

I arrived in Los Santos International Airport, greeted by people rushing every which way to go where they were going. I went out front, and a white Bullet was waiting for me, Michael being the driver.

"Hop in kid, we gotta' talk."

"So, I heard about that big screw up in Vice. And I've heard about the gang being torn apart. Now, I'm not mad, like you may think, but I do need you to do something for me. I'm taking you to meet a guy over in Ganton," he said as he sped down the busy Los Santos street.

Dilapidated cars lined the streets, others driving by. An elderly woman was being held up for her walker, apparently, the gunman needed it more than her.

We arrived in the cul-de-sac know as "Ganton", or to the local gangs, as "Grove Street" or "The Grove" for short. Michael motioned for me to get out of the car and enter the house we were parked in front of.

As I entered the door, a living room with a television and a couch came before me. Just a few feet ahead was the entrance to the kitchen, a black man standing in the doorway.

"You the dude Mike wants me to see?", he asked, an urban accent hung in his voice.

"Yeah, I suppose. Who are you?"

He looked at me for a second, then straightened up. He whipped out a shiny desert eagle and said,"I'm Carl Johnson. Welcome to San Andreas, foo'."

He pulled the trigger and I felt a bullet rip through my torso, another following shortly after. I fell to my knees, my vision filling with blood and my lungs drained of air. He walked calmly over to me, a huge smirk on his face. Then he just knee'd me in the face and shot me once more in the leg, leaving me to die on the hard wood floor.

I watched him walk away, and out the front door. My eyelids now more than half shut, I curled into a ball and waited for the Grim Reaper to come escort me back with him to the Afterlife.

I didn't know how this could've happened, or how I even survived as long as I did. All I know is an important life lesson.

Never trust anyone.


End file.
